


Summoning the Beast

by frechi123



Series: Epic Rap Battle University of History [3]
Category: Epic Rap Battles of History (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Humor, “If you lose someone do this to make them show up!”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-12-28 22:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21144272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frechi123/pseuds/frechi123
Summary: On the day of review, before a big test, Michael Bay is nowhere in sight. Everyone thinks he won’t make it, but the other directors have an idea...





	Summoning the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> I know none of our main characters are in the Film side of things as a major, but as Oprah is in the college in which this class takes place, she will be here to observe.
> 
> Plus, this is one of my favorite ERBs.

”This is stupid!” Marilyn Monroe snapped, stomping a heel on the ground from her chair. “Why are we waiting for one student to come in before we even start review?!”

Beside her, Jim Henson looked nervous, twirling Kermit’s limbs in his hands. “We have one of the biggest tests of the year coming up soon... we _need _this if we even want an inkling of passing in our future.“

“Why did Mr. Hitchcock insist on teaching us so vaguely?” Across the room from them, my roommate, Ellen DeGeneres, raised her head from her arms folded across her desk. “Is he always like this, guys?”

This question she directed at our resident film boys – Steven Spielberg, Quentin Tarantino, and Stanley Kubrick – all sitting in their resident four square configuration. The seat beside Quentin was empty – and was the reason why none of us were getting to review for our large test.

“Not always,” answered Quentin. “I think he’s just spiting us today. He may be in a bad mood.”

“Michael Bay tends to put people in bad moods.” Vince Offer-Shlomi was on edge, as usual, and looked like he would whip someone with the Shamwow towel he always kept with him. “You’d better find a way to get him over here.”

“What?! Us?!” Stanley exclaimed. “Why?!”

“Because he’s a film student like the three of you. If he doesn’t show up, I will tell one of those Athlete War kids to come down and skewer you!”

”Easy, Vince,” I told him. “You know they can’t control when he comes in, right?”

Vince looked slightly defeated when he turned his gaze to me. I was near the back of the room, closer to the door. “I know, Oprah. I just wish they could, you know?”

“Why don’t you tell Mr. Lee to do something?” came the rushy voice of Napoleon Dynamite, slouching so far in his chair and planking all over it. 

“If he wanted to, he would have by now,” said Jim, knowing the question was for him. “I’m guessing Mr. Hitchcock threatened to punish him if he tried to give us the review early. Which probably explains why he’s not here.”

Stan Lee was Mr. Hitchcock’s teaching assistant on certain days. Today was one of them, but it was true that he wasn’t present, when he would usually be early. Something told me Jim was onto something.

Fred Rogers then spoke up, quiet as he was. “What if he’s not here?”

“If he’s not, that little weasel’s going to have to answer to us,” hissed Caitlyn Jenner. “Who does he think he is, getting in the way of _our _good grades?”

_Slam!_

The sound of a meter stick hitting the entrance door scared us all, and we whipped our heads towards the door.

“Oh, he’s here, all right,” snapped Alfred Hitchcock as he marched into the room with purpose, smacking the stick into his hands as he walked to his desk. “I wouldn’t insist on doing this otherwise.”

“Where do you think he is then, Alfred?” asked Steven. Only the other directors called him by first name. “And why wouldn’t he come in by now? Doesn’t he know that there is review?”

“I think that what he doesn’t know is that Mr. Hitchcock won’t give it to us without him here,” I realized. “And thus we have more reasons to hate him.”

“Right on the nose, Miss Winfrey.” 

Quentin made a face, and whipped out a phone to send out a text.

“Don’t you guys have any way to force him to come down here?” asked Caitlyn. “I’m about to take on Vince’s proclamation if he doesn’t come down here!”

Stanley gulped. Steven tapped his chin. And that’s when he realized it.

“Do you remember what made Michael come in our rap battle?” he asked Quentin and Stanley.

They both looked confused. “What do you mean?” Quentin asked.

“Think about it: what’s the one thing we had in common right before Michael barged in?”

“You were all making fun of him!” Marilyn exclaimed. “That’s right! He can’t resist showing up and refuting claims about him!”

“Right on the money, Mari,” said Steven. 

I raised an eyebrow. “It sounds like the meme where you lose a friend somwhere and have to say a specific thing to get them to appear.”

“It does, Oprah,” Quentin admitted, “but if it gets him here, then I don’t care what anyone makes of it.”

“What did they even say about him last time?” asked Fred.

“For starters,” Ellen said, “Steven called him a schlep.”

From his desk where he was grading another session’s review, Mr. Hitchcock looked over. “While, at the same time, calling my award prowess into the question.”

At that, Steven ducked behind his hat. “Let’s be fair here, Alfred! Quentin was worse towards both of us than I was to you.”

“Hey!” Quentin squeaked. 

“He has a point,” said Caitlyn. “You told Mr. Hitchcock that his one movie wasn’t bloodscary enough and called him out on the British Army turning him down.”

Jim shrunk back a bit, but spoke anyway. “Then you told Steven that one of his movies looked like sellout BS that Michael would do.”

”You’re lucky I don’t pound either of you for calling _me _out,” Quentin snapped, ducking his head down. “And it was War of the Worlds for your information. Even he agreed with it.”

Steven shrugged and nodded, just as he had done during the battle.

“In return, Mr. Hitchcock had told Steven that half of his earnings should have gone to John Williams, and that he was more horrible than Megan Fox’s acting in Transformers!” Vince kept a straight face through most of it, though Marilyn and Caiitlyn did laugh. Mr. Hitchcock glared at them and they calmed down as he turned away.

“That leaves Stanley,” Marilyn mused. “What did he say?”

“Well, for starters, nothing super mean to the other directors in the room,” he said, uncovering his own head. “I was mostly describing my own stuff.”

“Then he called out AI,” I said. “He said it was the worst thing since the Ninja Turtles.”’

As if on cue, we heard footsteps running quickly toward us.

Then the door slammed open. All of us jumped, save for Mr. Hitchcock, who merely looked the door up and down.

“That’s enough!”

“Mock 4 times, and he appears...” Napoleon widened his eyes, an uncommon thing for him - only barely beating out him keeping his eyes open. 

“I have heard enough crap from all of you... Again!” He stomped his foot like a toddler having a tantrum. “You’re lucky I don’t get some of you thrown out of here!”

“Walt would kill you if you tried to throw _me_ out of here,” I said, and Michael regarded me.

“Why’d you have to be one of his committee cronies?” he snapped.

“I didn’t choose to be.”

“Anyway, Mr. Bay, you are late.” Mr. Hitchcock slammed the meter stick against the wall, which made Michael jump. “You wasted everyone’s time they could have been using to work on the review.”

Michael looked startled at that. “Wait, no one started yet?!”

“No!” Caitlyn jumped up from her chair. “You decided not to come to class on time, so he punished _all _of us!”

Quentin raised his head. “He knew you were probably going to cheat off of someone’s review, so since we didn’t get it now, you can’t copy.”

“And we’re all going to fail!” Ellen wailed.

“Now, now,” said Mr. Hitchcock. “You all still have the rest of this day to get something prepared.” He lifted the stack of reviews onto his desk. “Come up and take a review before you leave. I will push back the test a bit to give you time to study, finish, and turn it in.”

Everyone ran up and grabbed one before racing out. I was the last one to go get one, and as soon as Michael tried to reach for one, Mr. Hitchcock whacked him with the meterstick.

“_Ow!” _Michael rubbed his hand. “_Why?!”_

”You don’t deserve the chance. You’ll have to find other means to study.”

“But that’s impossible!”

“You never have time to read reviews, right?”

“This isn’t the kind I meant!”

“You might as well have.”

As soon as I left the room, I heard Michael screaming up a storm. I figured Mr. Hitchcock was just staring at him with disdain or mind interest.

I snickered to myself. That ought to show him.

**Author's Note:**

> Little bonus:
> 
> Oprah: “Hey, Abe, what’s up?”
> 
> Abe: “What is all that unholy screeching?!”
> 
> Oprah: “That’s probably Michael.”
> 
> Abe: “Which one?”
> 
> Oprah: “Bay.”
> 
> Abe: “Why’s he screaming?”
> 
> Oprah: “Because he may fail the year.”
> 
> Abe: “I can hear my eagle rolling in his grave now.”


End file.
